By Angel Zhao
After “Home is So Sad” by Philip Larkin
home is so sad. the dust has settled,
a fine layer of debris ageing as
the years go on. as if time
could gather into a feather duster and push the rotting away.
halls that used to feel Debussy’s
love now long given over to silence
and the fine ivory going gray with Winter’s grasp.
you can see how it once was: look at the
marred scores falling apart at the edges
and the echo still ringing through the haze.
every family friend concert performed impromptu,
and every adult visitor wowed still lays
as fingerprints in the black glaze.
it feels of aged love. that piano.
_____ ____ ___ __ _
Angel Zhao is a 14-year-old student who lives in Vancouver, Canada. As an aspiring writer, she is notorious for writing vague and murky poetry and throwing shower thoughts together in hopes it will make sense. In the last year, she has spent 40,959 minutes listening to her Spotify playlists exploring 1,029 different artists. In her spare time, Angel researches cafes she’ll never visit, watches Johnny Harris, and works at her speech arts academy as a Faculty Assistant.